Sleep
by SpookyMormonHellDream
Summary: Kay-verse One-Shot, Pharoga. Prompt from Tumblr user unabashedgentlemenpirate located in author's note. Summary: Mazanderan, 1850. Erik is attacked, his mask ripped from his face. Nadir has never seen the monstrosity underneath - and desperately, a heartsick Erik hopes that he never will, fearing the price he will pay if that terrible fate should ever come to pass.


**Author's Note:** _Full Summary - prompt from the Tumblr user unabashedgentlemenpirate: "...Angsty Erik x Daroga (Nadir) where like Erik - being the angsty baby he is - accidentally shows Nadir his face and thinks Nadir will leave him but it's all fluff and accepting at the end?" And so, my unabashedgentlemenpirate friend, your wish is my command. :D I do so hope this is what you had in mind. I had a hell of a good time writing it, at any rate. XD Thank you so much for the prompt! This is my very first Pharoga story! Spooky do good? Credit for this story's title and the lyrics at the beginning and end of the piece go to the song "Sleep" by My Chemical Romance. Always a great source of inspiration. Also, the disclaimer again: I own nothing - no PotO, no MCR. Damn. Anywhoodles, that's about it. Remember to review, and above all enjoy!_

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Sleep

Mazanderan, 1850

Erik

" _And through it all, how could you cry for me?"_

I was attacked, caught off guard in a foolish bout of complacency. It was not the first time that's happened to me since coming here, and I was certain that it would not be the last. But I was growing weary of the attempts on my life, of the violence inflicted upon me - I was weary of the pain of waiting for my broken body to heal, but more so of the terrible pain in my very soul, that ever-present notion that I would never truly belong anywhere. I did not know my attackers - not by name, to be sure - but I knew well enough what drove them to their bloodlust. My presence, my power...my face. And that was the crux of it all - my demon's face, the mark of evil which I had never asked to be bestowed upon me. It barred me from the rest of humanity, kept me always in the wings yet never permitted to walk the earth as any other man. I could not live in peace, could not laugh among my fellow man, could not love as I wished. And as the years pass, I've simply grown _weary_ of this irrevocable truth.

Winning my escape from the mob was easy enough, but even so I could not make it out before being dealt several painful blows to my face and head, to my body. I was relieved to be away, but not quite out of trouble yet. Initially, I was certain and terrified in equal measure that my jaw had been broken. And though I would later confirm that I was mistaken in that hasty assessment, it was clear that my mouth _had_ still sustained a substantial bit of damage, and moreover that more than one rib had been fractured to make matters worse. I returned to my apartments, stumbling and half-blinded in my pain, vaguely aware that Nadir had seen my approach and attempted to call out to me. But I ignored him then in favor of my solitude. I did not want him to see me - not like this. I did not want to fall from his favor. To be perfectly honest, he was the only companion I had, likely the only one I ever would be granted in this life. And I knew - as adamantly as I tried to deny it - that in our short time together he had somehow secured a place in my heart, the likes of which no other person had before.

It was unnatural, of course. Like everything else about me, it was utterly perverse - what I felt for him could only be described as such. But, as strongly as the truth of my loathsome existence, likewise did the echoes of longing - of an undefinable affection I did not yet understand - ring out for him. Yet I could never say it aloud, could never dare to dream...to ask him _if_...I shook my aching head against the thought. Regardless, I could not let him see me as I was then - bleeding, hurt, entirely exposed to the world. My mask was gone, and there was little I could do about it then. Nadir had seen bloodshed, had seen the horrors that the royalty of his country inflicted upon those that dared to cross them, but he had never seen a being of the devil. He had never seen _me_ plainly. And I was determined then that he never would - not if doing so meant losing the tenuous hold we had on what one might loosely consider companionship.

But still - troublesome and interfering man that he is - he knocked urgently upon the door of my apartments, calling out to me and demanding entry. Hobbling to the basin to tend to myself and making a mighty effort to ignore his voice, I put my hand to my mouth and pulled it away to reveal an alarming amount of blood, the direct result of a split lip and a bitten cheek. I groaned. I needed help, but I could not accept it.

Suddenly, the door opened, startling me badly. I turned violently away as Nadir entered - I felt then as if I was shrinking into myself, withering under his concerned scrutiny and cursing myself all the while. I had been remiss in ensuring that the door was securely locked, and now I was paying dearly for my carelessness, rendered helpless once again by complacency. Still bleeding, chest aching with each breath, I lowered my head and nearly wept at what was unfolding. He could not be permitted to see me...I had to make him leave before it was too late.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, fear painting his words.

But I could not concentrate on his good intentions. He needed to leave, he _could not_ see me! I shuddered as I heard him approach, wholly ignorant to the storm of fear and dread within my slowly breaking heart.

 _No, no, no...please…_

" _Erik_ , are you hurt?" he repeated, "Do you need help?"

"Yes... _No_. No," I sighed, forcing myself to remain calm, to give my voice an air of authority, "Leave me alone."

"You're bleeding."

"You must leave."

He took another step closer, "I can help."

" _No,_ " I snapped, "I don't want you to see me."

"What do you mean?" he asked, sincerely puzzled by my words. He had assisted me with past injuries - never before had I rejected his offers of aid so vehemently. But never before had I been so shamefully exposed.

"My mask," I explained weakly, "I lost it somewhere, back in the fight."

"You must let me help you."

I sighed then, too weary, too pained to argue any further. He was not going to assent to my demands; he was simply too logical, too caring of a man to leave someone he considered a friend alone, especially one so badly injured. There would be no convincing him, I knew that much. I would have to turn around - and that would be the end of it. He would leave, given yet another reason to view me in disgust. It was bad enough that he had witnessed me under the lunatic haze of the khanum's drugs, that he had seen me do her murderous bidding countless times before. Yet I knew that a part of him understood that it was beyond my control, in the end - that I was merely another pawn to a merciless master. I had never _wanted_ to be evil. Likewise, a part of me believed that he grew to see that with time, that he could forgive me when all was said and done. But this... _this_ was different. To see my face, unmasked and vile as it was, would allow him to understand once and for all that I truly was a monster, to rip away the veil of innocence he brought down upon himself; he would put the pieces together and make sense of what led me to my vicious acts, every last piece of my soul taken away since arriving in his country. And that would be the end of it, the end of _us_. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and I decided then with no small amount of bitterness and regret that it was high time to get the ordeal over with.

Slowly, I turned to face him.

His breath caught in his throat - fear plain in his eyes - and he turned away as I expected.

"It is as I thought," I whispered, heartsick and betrayed, "You find me repulsive. Please, Nadir, just leave me."

He turned to face me once more and shook his head quickly, "Do not be so quick to dismiss me. I was only...surprised."

"You mock me," I spat angrily, truly believing my words.

"Please know that I don't," he insisted, then paused, a wry smile forming on his lips, "A bit of warning would have served us both well, that is all."

In spite of my pain, my anger, I managed a sardonic half-smile of my own, "I had been under the impression that the mask was enough warning for you."

"I had suspected, of course…from the stories I've heard..." he trailed off, indicating the hideousness of my deformity but having the good sense to let the subject close before continuing, "It does not matter. Let me _help_ , Erik."

I searched his eyes for any hint of falsehoods - but ultimately finding none, I simply sighed, fervently hoping that I was not seeing only what I wished to see, "Alright. If you must."

He tended to my wounds to the best of his abilities. Truly, he was a very terrible doctor; on the whole, he did very little by way of actually helping me. It was I that guided him through each step of the process. But even so, his presence calmed me enough that, between the two of us, the blood was quickly and neatly washed away, broken bones bound securely against further damage. For my part, it was absolutely humiliating; but my shame was dulled significantly by his stoic manner. He did not outright stare, to his credit, and although I caught him glancing curiously at me when he thought I was looking elsewhere, he was kind enough not to balk at my sunken face and pallid skin. I _was_ grateful - for his assistance, for the stunning fact that he had not abandoned me as I had been so certain he would - yet I could not find the words to truly convey that gratitude. My mind was reeling with more information than I could comprehend in those moments. I simply remained silent, and he followed suit.

No words passed between us until I attempted to stand, immediately overtaken by a powerful wave of dizziness. I slumped unceremoniously back into my seat, distantly aware of his steadying hands upon my arms.

"You took a blow to the head," he observed.

"Yes. _Repeatedly_ ," I responded dryly.

"Then you must rest now."

"I can't - "

" _Rest_ , Erik. Please, you need to."

It occurred to me to argue further, but in the end I simply could not ignore my body's protests, the sluggishness of my thoughts that reflected my injuries. My response was subdued, "Yes, perhaps you're correct."

"You shouldn't be alone," he ventured, almost timidly.

I shook my head dismissively - resignedly, even, "I'm sure that I'll be fine."

"No. I don't," he paused, taking a steadying breath, "I don't want you to be alone."

"I am alone, Nadir. In the end, I am alone," I said sadly as I met his eyes, "You must know that. This night would be no different."

"I do not wish that for you."

He met my gaze steadily, almost intensely. I could not look away from him, could not pull myself from the significance of his unspoken pleas beneath the simplicity of his words on my behalf. For better or worse, I wanted to believe then that he had seen into my heart on his own, that I would not have to give voice to my uncertain affections. I wasn't strong enough. Silence stretched on deafeningly between us, two people frozen in a pivotal moment of equal doubt and yearning unknown to the other - and then it happened all at once. Overcome with emotions beyond my control - perhaps too overwrought for my own good - I leaned forward. Our lips met, brushed softly against one another. But I immediately gasped and pulled away, appalled at my behavior and certain that he would feel the same. Yet to my utter astonishment, he clearly did not - rather, he leaned toward me this time, our lips meeting again now more firmly, as if his actions would say what neither of us could then. And then it was over as swiftly as it began, a mere heartbeat in the grander scale of time; but even in that brevity, we were different, changed entirely by that simple yet somehow equally monumental action. I covered my mouth with my hand, attempting to steady myself. I did not realize that I was crying until I felt the tears fall from my eyes. I closed them tightly, willing myself to take a breath and scarcely able to believe what had just happened.

"You are not alone," he said, measuring his words with great care as he took my hand away from my face, "I'll stay with you."

Trembling now, I met his gaze once more, "Truly?"

"I'll stay. Let me stay."

I nodded - I could not speak.

He put his hand over mine - for a fleeting moment, so brief that I was sure I imagined it, I saw affection in his eyes once again, an affection which mirrored my own. And then it was gone, replaced by an expression of determination - though of _what_ , I could not say - but his shining compassion remained. And I decided then that I could be content with that much. Whatever became of that night, of our shared actions, I could be content for just having known those first moments of acceptance. He patted my hand as I leaned my head back heavily. By then, I truly was exhausted.

"Sleep now," he said, "I'll be here when you wake."

"Thank you," I murmured.

 _Thank you for staying_ , I thought as I drifted into a dreamless slumber and wishing once again that I could say the words aloud, _Thank you for seeing me._

" _So shut your eyes, kiss me goodbye, and sleep."_


End file.
